First Draft
by mickeiblue
Summary: Every story has a first draft - Word after word was erased, changed, rewritten, and expressions and feelings manipulated to suit the new idea of the story. For one ex girl friend Lucas created a dream, for another he destroyed one. Oneshot.


**Disclaimer: I own nothing, not the quotes and not OTH.**

_Such is the inconsistency of real love, that it is always awake to suspicion, however unreasonable; always requiring new assurances from the object of its interest__. __- Ann Radcliffe_

Sitting in front of his computer Lucas Scott stared at the words in front of him, there on screen his heart was laid out for the world to see. In black and white was the struggle of a boy becoming a man, discovering who he was and his place in the world, Lucas' story, one he'd painstakingly written and one he'd put his whole heart into getting published.

It wasn't just his story though, it was all of theirs; Brooke, Peyton, Haley and Nathan's too. A lot had changed since he'd began writing and since he'd typed the last words, he began it with Brooke and finished it with Peyton, and now he had neither of them.

His finger paused over the backspace button, he wasn't sure he could do this.

It was more than just a story, it was his heart, not all the events were the same yet every feeling and emotion was true. That was what made it so special to Lucas and now they were asking him to lie.

This was his dream, getting the book published, this was it, his chance, and when Lucas had gotten that phone call his world had changed. He could still feel the excitement and joy, the urge to jump up and down.

Finally someone had appreciated his work.

However it wasn't good enough. All stories had that first draft, the unblemished truth, all stories changed and were manipulated to suit some sort of idea. They tell you what sells, they tell you what they don't like and what you have to change, it had angered Lucas that the editor had wanted to make all these changes when he had thought the first draft was perfect just the way it was, but could he risk his dream for that? He had two choices, satisfy them, change the story, or keep true to himself and never see his story out there.

That was the question.

Did it really matter? He asked himself, after all so many things had already been changed and as long as the people who were important knew the truth who cared what was in the book.

He moved his hand away from the keyboard and continued to stare at the screen _this could be my last chance_ Lucas thought, the words echoed through his mind.

Quickly before he lost the nerve Lucas pressed down the backspace button and proceeded to erase one love and replace it with another.

With careful words Lucas crafted a love story that tied together from the beginning to the end, ultimately he was giving the story a happily ever after, though Lucas knew it was no fairytale he poured all the wishes, all the what ifs, all the love he'd ever felt for every person in his life and directed it towards one thing, one person.

Word after word was erased, changed, rewritten, and expressions and feelings manipulated to suit the new idea of the story. For one ex girl friend Lucas created a dream, for another he destroyed one.

Two days after pressing the backspace key Lucas sighed and leaned back in his chair, it was over, the choice was made and he could never take it back, and still unsure he'd made the right decision Lucas closed the laptop and stared at the night sky through the window

In real life love was full of doubts and insecurities, it was not happy all the time and free from any form of hate, love was messy. In Lucas Scott's first draft he wrote love like he'd lived it, powerful, passionate, messy and conditional, there were two great loves of his life and they'd both been written as truthfully and as lovingly as he could.

In Lucas Scott's second draft he wrote love like a fairytale and sold it to the world.

_After the bare requisites of living and reproducing, man wants most to leave some record of himself, a proof, perhaps, that he has really existed. He leaves his proof on wood, on stone, or on the lives of other people. This deep desire exists in everyone, from the boy who scribbles on a wall to the Buddha who etches his image in the race mind. Life is so unreal. I think that we seriously doubt that we exist and go about trying to prove that we do. __- John Steinbeck _


End file.
